


The American Sleeping Beauty

by HPGal3



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-12
Updated: 2017-06-01
Packaged: 2018-10-17 22:45:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10603842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HPGal3/pseuds/HPGal3
Summary: America goes one Count Chocula joke too far.





	1. Bad Decisions

**Author's Note:**

> Mostly dialogue and jokes between the Magic Trio. So generic, but there will be rusame. I put it in the tags so no one is unpleasantly surprised.
> 
> Don't own anything, Hetalia belongs to Himaruya Hidekaz, whoever that mysterious man may be.

“See ya later, Twilight!”

Romania ground his teeth as the few colleagues still scattered around the room snickered at the comment. The bulk of the World Congress had already filtered out of the room, but the comment from the boisterous American was enough for anyone left over to hear loud and clear.

“I’m not a vampire!” He shouted after America’s back, letting out a small huff when he realized the other man was gone.

Serbia hid her slight smile behind one hand as she patted his shoulder comfortingly.

“At least he didn’t use “Edward” this time.”

“Yeah, that one got confusing fast.” Bulgaria agreed from next to them.

Romania hung his head. “Yeah, but he only stopped using that one because Estonia got confused.”

Bulgaria and Serbia exchanged a glance.

“Hey, don’t take it so hard.” Bulgaria said.

“Yeah, he probably doesn’t even realize he’s being a jerk. If you tell him, he’ll probably stop.”

“You really think so?”

“Yes!” Serbia exclaimed, elbowing Bulgaria for the incredulous look he was giving her. “He probably just needs to be scolded before he gives up. If he doesn’t stop, tell England.”

Bulgaria snorted and said, “He’s not his mother! If you really want him to stop you should threaten him.”

“Threaten. America.” Romania deadpanned. “Are you serious?”

Bulgaria rolled his eyes. “Or let him keep calling you “Count Chocula” for the next century. That’s fine too.”

Romania groaned in frustration. “I don’t even know who that one is!”

“My point exactly.”

“Well, I think that’s stupid and asking nicely never hurt.” Serbia said curtly. “But if you could knock him on his ass, that would do the trick as well. Now, are we going for dinner and trade discussions or are we going to stand around all day?”

Romania waved both of them off. “You two head out, I still have to pack up my mess.”

Bulgaria peered down at the disorganized papers still lying in front of Romania’s seat. “Half of those aren’t even notes, they’re sigils—”

“Hey! No one invited you to look! You two head out, I said I’ll catch up!”

After a quick glance and shrug, the two nations headed for the meeting-room door.

“Text us when you’re on your way!” Serbia called back before disappearing out of the door.

“Will do…” Romania muttered to himself, gathering his papers to into one pile before beginning to leaf through them. He had nearly finished organizing his notes from his spellwork when he heard loud steps thundering down the hallway.

“Anyone in here?! I lost my cell phone!”

America popped his head into the doorway, out of breath, before recognizing Romania.

“Oh! Spike! Can you call my cell phone real quick? I might’ve left it in here.”

“Who is Spike?!” Romania cried in frustration, dropping his stack of papers back onto the table.

“Dude.” America said, taken aback by the outburst. “He’s from Buffy the Vampire Slayer, chill out.”

“Of course he is.” He rubbed at his temples. “Can you please stop calling me vampire names? I think I’ve asked before, but my name is Constantin, and the vampire thing is really distracting at meetings.”

“But I thought your tourism board loved it!”

“They do, but _I don’t when I’m working!”_

__

__

“Alright, alright.” America relented, holding his hand up. “I’ll back off. Now my cell phone?”

Romania glared at him before unclenching the fists he didn’t realize he had clenched.

“Fine.” He took out his cell phone and jabbed at the screen to find America’s contact information.

“Dialing “Alfred F American Flag”.”

Romania caught America’s amused smirk at the contact name and rolled his eyes. He had thought it was funny at the time, too. The two stood in silence for a couple of seconds before America gave up.

“Oh well. Thanks anyway. Bye-bye Count Chocula.” America snickered before attempting to turn tail.

Romania snapped.

“That’s it!” He whipped his wand from his inner coat pocket and aimed it at the back of America’s head. “Come back here!”

America slowing turned back around, his hands once again raised in mock-surrender and a shit-eating grin on his face. When he saw the wand, his grin grew even bigger.

“Dude. Is that a Harry Potter wand?”

Romania sputtered. “No! It’s a real wand! Grey alder from my northern region and probably older than you!”

“That’s cool. On Pottermore I got dogwood with a dragon heartstring.”

“Shut up! Although that’s very fitting, shut up! I’ve tried asking nicely, and if you don’t quit with the names I’ll—”

“You’ll curse me? Dude, Romania, c’mon.” America pushed the wand to the side. “I was just trying to rile you up for fun. There’s no need to threaten me with fake magic tricks, I’ll stop.”

The condescension only bothered Romania more.

“ “Fake magic tricks” ? I thought you were friends with England. This isn’t made up!”

America stared at him. “I’m pretty sure Harry Potter is made up.”

“Not Harry Potter! Actual magic. Spells and conjuring and sorcery.” Romania twirled his wand in the air as he spoke and America watched passively.

“…Sure. Look, I don’t really have time for fantasy right now, I think someone stole my phone. Call me when you’re doing sci-fi.” He said dismissively, turning to leave the room.

Romania narrowed his eyes.

“I’ll show you fantasy.” He murmured, before raising his wand and shouting,

“TEMPUS FANTASIA!”

America’s body ragdolled to the floor with a loud crack. Romania stared at the heap of nation and slowly lowered his wand.

“Oh. Crap.”


	2. Less Bad Decisions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Romania calls for Magic Club backup because he can’t wake America up. Their solutions make about as much sense as you can imagine.

The clock in the meeting room ticked away as Norway and Romania surveyed the soaked, inanimate body lying on the floor in front of them.

“Well. He’s not dead.” Said Norway.

The two heard the sound of feet pattering down the hall and looked up in time to see England rush into the meeting room, phone in hand.

“What happened?!”

“He’s out cold!” Romania cried. “Also I’m missing my dinner date!”

“Oh Jesus—” England skidded to a halt near America’s head. “Why is he wet?”

“I conjured water to splash him awake. It didn’t work.” Norway said flatly.

“Well then dry him off! He’s going to get sick!”

Norway rolled his eyes.

“Fine.” With a wave of his hand, a glowing, red aura surrounded America, completely dissipating the water. “What took you so long?”

“I had to catch a cab. I’m not staying in this hotel. It’s too damn expensive.” England muttered under his breath as he knelt down to survey the unconscious man.

“I am.” Norway said from his vantage point on the table. “It’s the nicest.”

“Oh, well that’s bloody good for you and your damn economy. Some of us have other things to spend our pocket change on than fancy hotels and pastries!”

“Guys!” Romania interrupted, gesturing wildly to America’s lifeless form. “Bigger things to worry about! Also, I’m not staying at this hotel either.”

“Right.” England sighed and ran a hand down his face. “And you’ve tried everything?”

“Everything! I’ve tried spells, sigils, a charm, Niels and I did a dual incantation—”

“Potions?” England suggested.

Norway shook his head.

“Coffee from my house was the first thing I tried. I even laced it with unicorn blood extract. He almost choked on it, but we got most of it down. Still no response.”

England groaned.

“He'll feel that when he wakes up... Anything else?”

“You caught us just after “Plan B”.” Norway said.

“The water? What in god’s name did you use on him?!”

“It wasn’t anything, really! He was mocking me about using magic and he called it a fantasy so I went with a homebrew spell, “Tempus Fantasia.” I was hoping to make him look like a fairy princess or something, embarrass him! Not this!”

“”Tempus Fantasia” is that even correct Latin?” England said, shooting a look toward Norway, who shrugged in response.

“If it was homebrew, it wouldn’t be that strong. Latin isn’t one of my ancestor tongues, but it could be he meddles in affairs he doesn’t understand.”

“Excuse me?” Romania said, indignant. A few thousand years of magicka practice didn’t seem like meddling to him.

“The spell you “homebrewed” might have existed already.” Norway said, like Romania was a perfect idiot.

“There’s no way!”

“Well if he won’t wake up any other way, it might be worth it to look for the spell.” England said, standing up. “But since it’s getting late and we don’t want any of the cleaning staff to find us, we need to get him to the nearest room.”

Norway found himself being pointedly stared at.

“No way. Nuh-uh.”

“You did say you were staying here.”

“I know where his room is. Every one of us who got a room here was housed fairly close to each other. We’ll just break in.” He hopped off the table and started walking toward the door.

“Hey wait! His body?” England called as Romania struggled to find a good grasp on America’s bicep.

“Can’t, leading the way.” Norway called, already down the hall.

“He’s too heavy! You need to help!”

A gentle blue aura surrounded America’s body and Romania suddenly had an easier time of lifting him. England sighed and resigned himself to grabbing America’s other arm to lift and drag.

“Have it your way then.” He muttered, irritated.

Hours later, America’s body was laid out on his plush hotel bed while the trio sat scattered around the room researching solutions.

“Well, my grimoire is useless.” England declared, slamming his book shut as he reached the end of the ancient tomb for the second time.

“My wand is being useless, too.” Romania said, dejectedly tossing the stick on the end table. “I’ve run every counter spell I’ve ever used in the past century and then some. Niels, any luck?”

Norway scrunched up his nose and responded from behind his laptop screen without looking up.

“I’m only finding scattered references to fairy tales like “Sleeping Beauty” and “Snow White.”” He looked up and said seriously, “My current go-to mystic suggests true love’s kiss.”

England scoffed at him.

“Please! That’s ridicu—” He cut himself off as he seriously considered the idea. “How… How would that even work? Clearly it’s too subjective to work. Right?” He glanced at Romania, who refused to meet his eyes, then at Norway, who was staring blankly at him.

“True love’s kiss has worked in the past… at times.” Romania said hesitantly.

“Once in recorded history, but nearly all the time in legend.” Norway said.

“Who’s even _telling_ you this?”

“A mystic elder from my home. I asked her on her blog.”

“Right, we don’t even know who Alfred’s “true love” might be.” England said, making sarcastic air quotes.

“It could just mean a DNA swap with someone he likes.”

“Awww, that’s much less romantic.” Romania whined.

“It’s a cold world.”

England stared at the two in disbelief, hand planted firmly on his hips as he began to pace the room.

“If I remember the fairy tales correctly,” England thought aloud, “and I _do_ know fairy tales, Sleeping Beauty didn’t need true love, she needed a kiss from a prince. A king’s son, specifically.”

“You have plenty of those.” Norway deadpanned.

“Hey, we _both_ have princes!” England snapped. “But we can’t get them involved. If our bosses knew we practiced sorcery…” He trailed off.

“It’s not the Middle Ages anymore…” Romania said, though he was also uncomfortable with the notion of getting any of their bosses involved. He stared into the wall, lost in thought, when an idea occurred to him.

“Hey… Doesn’t Denmark call himself “The King of Scandinavia”?”

Norway narrowed a glare at Romania, but was unable to discourage England from agreeing, or hiding his glee at the forming idea.

“Yes, actually, I think he does!”

“ _Dan_ doesn’t have children.”

“Oh, c’mon Norway!”

“You know how Matthias feels about his former colonies as well as the rest of us.” England waggled his finger at Norway.

“Then call Greenland.”

“Greenland isn’t already in the city, now is he?” England said pointedly. “Just call Iceland and we can take care of this as discreetly as possible. He already knows about your magic, it’d the simplest option.”

“I don’t see why we’re completely ignoring the element of love in this.” Norway insisted. “And there’s _no way_ America is in love with Iceland.”

“Fairy tales hinge on royalty! This has just as much of a chance to work as your stupid plan!”

“Stupid? Matthias isn’t even a king! Your plan is as tenuous as your grasp on wandless magic!”

“I've told you, wandless magic isn’t more or less powerful than wanded magic, it’s just harder to control! And we have no clue what constitutes “true love” or who America’s might even be, so this makes more sense!”

“Why don’t you kiss him! You two are sickeningly wrapped up in each other anyway!”

“Guys, someone is going to call security!” Romania stage whispered at the two bickering nations, neither of whom payed attention. England’s face had gone scarlet from the insinuation.

““Wrapped up in each other”? First of all, how _dare_ you, second, with the way you’re acting about this Iceland business I’d say _you’re_ the wrapped up one!”

Romania grabbed his wand and quickly whipped it at the two.

“TACI!”

Silence fell over the room as Norway and England began to pantomime angrily at each other before giving up with a hush. They looked peevishly to Romania.

“We need to work together! I say we try both options. Call Iceland in, and if it doesn’t work, find someone America might like. Our last resort should be one of your princes.” When neither nation physically responded, Romania flicked his wand.

“Vorbi.”

As soon as the spell was lowered, Norway tersely bit out,

“Why don’t you deal with your own problems?”

“Hey now,” Romania said, hurt. “That’s not the attitude that founded Magic Club.”

Norway continued glaring at Romania, but his glare slowly lost its heat as Romania did his best impression of a kicked puppy. Norway eventually relented, taking out his cell phone.

“Fine, I’ll call him. But you,” he pointed to England, “get kissing.”

England, still red-faced and flustered, whipped his head back and forth between Romania’s prone face and America’s sleeping form.

“Fine!” He said a little too loudly. “I can do that! No problem.”

Norway cocked an eyebrow at him, his finger hovering over the dial button on his screen.

England huffed and stalked over to the bed. He leaned over the sleeping man’s face, eyes still darting between the other two in the room, before laying a quick peck on America’s lips. He looked up, embarrassed.

“DNA, Arthur.” Norway chided from his seat.

The Brit groaned as he braced himself and leaned back down for a slower, deeper kiss. He pulled away slowly, deflating a little as he opened his eyes to America’s still-sleeping face.

“Well,” England croaked, “there we have it. One must definitely be a king’s son to break this spell.”

Romania awkwardly stared, wide-eyed, at the floor while Norway rolled his eyes and dialed.

“Oh Icey~. I need you to come to room 176, 3rd floor. And hurry.” Norway didn’t wait for Iceland to finish his confused protests before hanging up. “He’s on his way.”

“Great!” England exclaimed. “Now we wait!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My chapters are pretty short, huh? Feel free to comment on pacing and tone, I might be writing these too fast.
> 
> This is definitely chapter 2 out of 4, but for some reason ao3 won't let me change /? if I have a saved draft. So while it used to be /3 it is now /4.


	3. The Wrong Track

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Added a chapter. Is now /4 because I didn't mean for the middle to take up two chapters.

“You want me to what.” Iceland stood, mortified, in the entryway of America’s hotel room.

“Kiss this stiff.” Norway said, jerking his thumb over his shoulder to gesture at America, laying on the bed, still in deep sleep.

Since the Magic Club had first arrived on the scene to take care of the sleep curse, many hours had passed and dawn was fast approaching. Iceland was standing in his pajamas, having rushed to the specified room at the behest of Norway’s cryptic phone call. He honestly didn’t know what he’d been expecting.

“We’re testing a theory.” England said.

“Well, breaking a curse, really.” Romania supplied.

“And we need you to kiss America just in case the curse calls for a kiss from the son of a king.”

Iceland, far too tired to process their words, opened his mouth to speak, but was also too tired to care.

“I’m going back to my room.” He said, turning on his heel to leave.

England darted to block the door.

“Now wait just a damn second, I already had to button up and kiss the idiot, the least you can do is give it a try!”

Iceland stared at him for a long moment.

“You did what.”

England blushed wildly.

“You... you heard what I said!”

“I don’t see how that’s my problem.”

“It’s your problem because if you don’t at least try to help us America could be stuck like this forever!”

Iceland was unaffected. “Still not seeing it.”

England was on the verge of blowing up in the boy’s face when Romania’s voice sounded from behind them.

“I messed up, Emil.” He said solemnly. Iceland turned his head to listen. “If you could do this, it could save my skin and prevent a larger incident.”

The plea got Iceland’s attention, but he still sent a withering look towards Norway, who prompted,

“What do you want for it?”

Iceland whipped back to England.

“Fishing rights,” he turned to point at Romania, “import benefits.”

“Done!” Chirped Romania. Everyone turned to look back at England, who scowled.

“Fine. Limited term, and you owe me Constantin.”

As Romania nodded his head in assent, England and Iceland resigned themselves to the agreement. 

Iceland turned back to the room, face ablaze, and slowly approached the bed. In a short moment of lost nerve, he scolded the group.

“I can’t believe you old men got us into this mess!”

He leaned down to America’s sleeping face, still muttering under his breath until the last second, where he pressed his lips to America’s with a pinched expression on his face. When he finally leaned back and America showed no change in condition, everyone in the room deflated.

“Wow, he really is out.” Iceland noted. “He doesn’t know I was here. We never speak of this again.” The boy said, threateningly, before quickly making his exit.

Once he was gone, Norway muttered disapprovingly, “I told you _Danmark_ wasn’t a king.”

“Maybe this just means we find the person he likes?” Romania cautioned.

Norway looked to England.

“Any ideas?”

England took a moment to speak, but just before he started they heard voices from the hallway.

“Is that Iceland?” Romania asked.

Norway went to door and poked his head into the hallway before turning back into the room.

“He’s talking to—” He paused and looked up, an idea suddenly overtaking him. Norway rushed back to the doorway and stuck his head into the hall once more.

“Hey Ivan!” He called, motioning for the unseen Russian to come to their room.

Romania panicked.

“What are you doing?!”

“If England and a prince didn’t work we need to start somewhere!” Norway hissed into the room.

Uncertainty and shock colored England and Romania’s faces as Russia arrived at the doorway.

“Hello Norway. I did not realize this was _your_ room. You’re up early.” Russia greeted genially.

“It’s actually America’s room. Would you come in?”

Russia’s face and tone remained polite, but he quirked his head in suspicion.

“What is this about?”

“America is having an issue that we think you can resolve.” Norway’s tone remained even, giving nothing away.

Russia peered over Norway’s head into the room.

“I see England and Romania are also present. What an… _odd_ assortment of nations.” He mused, waiting for an explanation, but all Norway said in turn was,

“Yes, you might say.”

After a further moment of waiting, Russia continued.

“I see. I’m not going in there.”

“I insist.”

“I decline.”

“There’s no reason to—”

“We need you to kiss America!” Romania shouted from inside the room, immediately retreating back from his own loudness.

Norway took a long suffering sigh before looking back up at Russia, who could only gape in amusement.

“That is… very funny! I will have to tell Toris about this later. Goodbye.” The larger man turned to leave and Romania prepared to chase him down the hall.

“Russia! Ivan! C’mon! Please! Hear us out!”

Russia was walking briskly down the hall with Romania trailing him when Norway’s voice rang out.

“We’ll let you draw on his face.”

Russia stopped cold and turned around, Romania nearly colliding with him.

“You have a permanent marker?”

“Definitely. Arthur, get a permanent marker.” Norway turned back to England, who stood watching the event transpire with a constipated look on his face.

“You have got to be kidding!” He finally choked out.

“It’s already past dawn. Second World Conference starts at 8. Now find a pen.”

England grumbled but knelt down to dig into his messenger bag.

One doodle spree later, Russia had all but run out of room on America’s face on which to draw crude pictures of pigs and genitalia. As he was finishing his final piece, the Russian Cyrillic translation of “I am stupid” across America’s jaw, Romania piped up.

“I think that’s the last of the room on his face.”

Russia sat back on the edge of the bed, admiring his handiwork.

“So it is. You were not lying when you said he wouldn't wake up. I should put some on his neck.”

“I think that’s quite enough!” England said adamantly. “Just get on with it.”

“Ah, Arthur~” Russia sing-songed, “you’re forgetting this is a favor to you~. And my good friend Constantin, of course.”

“Yes, sure, thank you Russia.” Romania shot him a thumbs up and an uncomfortable grin.

Russia beamed at Romania, and turned back to America with a melodramatic sigh.

"Although if this is to ever get done, I suppose I should get it over with quickly.”

“There needs to be DNA swap.” Norway reminded, monotone as ever.

“Of course~.”

Russia, already sat at the edge of the bed near America, leaned down to place his lips over the sleeping man’s, gentler than anyone in the room might have expected. He stood a fraction of a second longer than either Iceland or England, but just as he made to pull away, America took a sharp, noticeable intake of breath, moving to deepen the kiss.

The room was floored.

The corner of Russia's mouth quirked into a smile as their lips melded together in the reciprocal kiss. As he finally pulled away from America to take a breath, England began making sputtering noises of disbelief. At the sound, America’s eyes flew open, darting around the room to take in all the occupants.

He swiftly threw Russia across the room.

Russia landed against the opposite wall, cracking the surface before he slid down into a shocked heap.

“WHAT THE HELL?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> English is made up, the rules don't matter, and I'll use the tilde any way I want.


	4. Epilogue of Sorts

America splashed his face with another burst of cold water before looking up to the mirror. It was now well past 11 o’clock, and he was still trying to wash marker off of his face.

_“Guess I’m not making today’s meeting.”_ He thought sourly as he grabbed the quickly dwindling hotel soap. It was slow going, and his face was mostly rubbed raw, but he was making progress in getting rid of all the graffiti.

* * *

 

_“England, respectfully, you have five minutes to explain before I throw you out of that window.” America had just finished throwing everyone else out of his room when he rounded on England in cold fury. “What the_ hell  _were you all doing in my room and why the HELL did Russia… why the hell was Russia even here?!”_

_“T-there... there was an_ incident _with Romania and you wouldn’t wake up.” England said, as placating as possible. “We tried everything to awaken you, but nothing worked, so we started trying_ anything.”

“ _What do you mean_ “I wouldn’t wake up”? _Y_ _ou guys drugged me or something?”_

_“No! Of course not! Romania simply used a spell on you—”_

_“Are you kidding me?! I was just fighting with him about that and now you’re trying to use it to excuse_ whatever _just happened?”_

_“I’m not trying to excuse anything.” England said tersely. “You wanted answers.”_

_“I want answers that make sense!”_

_“Look, we knew it had to do with magic, so we tried the true love’s kiss approach—”_

_“With_ Russia?!”

_“We tried other people! I, for one, didn’t think Russia would work.”_

_America stumbled back, looking a little green._

_“Other… people…” He said in disbelief. “How many—no, don’t answer that. Just… Get out of my room!”_

_England looked stricken._

_“Alfred, please. It wasn’t even that bad, it was just—“_

_“OUT!” America shouted, a large boom that made the paintings on the wall shake._

_England went scrambling for the door._

* * *

 

That had been hours ago. He had been glad everyone had left before he discovered the Sharpie marks because, in his anger, he had cracked the bathroom granite. If anyone had been present he might actually have punched them, which wouldn’t have been good for international relations.

“ _I might still punch someone.”_ He thought angrily scrubbing at his temple.

“Did that asshole really have to use permanent marker?!” He shouted at his own reflection.

Firm knocks sounded from the door. America scowled, not in the mood to deal with anything more for the day, and continued scrubbing.

The knocks continued for an annoyingly long time before America finally shouted “WHAT?!”

The knocking at the door stopped, but no one responded. America quickly dried his face, threw down his towel, and went to yank the door open.

“Who is it and whaddya want—”

America stopped short as he came face to chest with Russia, who was calmly grinning at him from the hallway.

“You did not come to the meeting.” Russia said, breezing past America. “The others are too afraid to check on you, so I took it upon myself to come and see how you are doing.”

America slammed the door shut behind them.

“You’re the reason I couldn’t go! Who else would’ve drawn all this jacked up stuff on my face!”

Russia chuckled. “It was necessary at the time.”

America pouted. “I just spent two hours rubbing my face off with hotel soap!”

“And yet,” Russia said, stepping in close to America and lifting the man’s chin with his forefinger. “Your face is still right here. Beautiful as ever.”

America tried holding his glare, but Russia’s smile was so calm and the morning had been so hectic that he found he didn’t have the energy to be mad anymore. He released a sigh and fell against Russia’s chest.

“Why did you kiss me in front of them?” He mouthed into Russia’s coat. “You know what could happen if anyone finds out we’re dating.”

Russia wrapped his arms around America. “It is like I said. It was necessary at the time. They cornered me on my way to see you this morning—”

“Our breakfast date…” America bemoaned.

“Precisely. Because, like you said,” Russia went into an impressive imitation of America’s voice, “ _breakfast is totally less conspicuous than dinner_.””

“So you _kissed me._ On some bogus, hocus-pocus, fairytale crap.”

Russia shrugged. “It seemed serious.”

“And the marker?”

“I had to make it look like I put up a fight. It had to look like kissing you was not what I wanted to be doing all night.”

America snorted laughter against Russia’s chest.

“You’re trying to be sweet, but I found no less than three dicks on my face this morning.”

Russia grinned.

“You are not late for lunch.” He said, changing the subject. “Perhaps if it is not too _conspicuous_ we might go together.”

America considered his empty stomach and stressful morning.

“I’d like that. But please, make it at least 15 miles from this hotel. We can’t run into anyone.”

“Ten miles would be sufficient.”

“…12.”

“ _Al’ik.”_ Russia said warningly.

“ _Okay,_ ten, but you have to wear a hat.” America pulled away to peck Russia on the lips. “I’m thinking about us, here, babe. I don’t want anything separating us.”

Russia hummed. “I suppose not. I am, after all, your “ _one true love_.””

America laughed as he broke the hug. “What, you _believe_ them?”

“No. But I believe that I love you.”

America’s cheeks turned red as he stared into Russia’s earnest eyes.

“I… I’m going to change. Into fresh clothes.” He stammered as he turned away, cheeks blazing. Russia just smiled, sitting in the guest chair as America rifled through his suitcase. When he’d found something suitably nondescript, America turned to walk into the bathroom, carefully closing the door behind him before devolving into a wide grin. He thought to himself,

_“I think I might love him too.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait! School ended and I had to move back home. Thank you for all the comments. It's been a fantastic turn out for my little, not-so-good fic, and I appreciate it! Let me know what y'all think of this last chapter. I might work on a superhero AU after this (also RusAme).


End file.
